


Hiding Tonight

by fromthebeginningthen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, not too hurt don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 04:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6690100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthebeginningthen/pseuds/fromthebeginningthen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wakes up needing comfort, John provides.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hiding Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> First fic I've ever written, I also typed it really quickly in response to some set pictures! Unbeta'd though I tried my best to self-edit.
> 
> Title comes from the title of the song "Hiding Tonight" by Alex Turner. The meaning of the song doesn't really have anything to do with the story, but the tone and that one line really set the mood while I was writing it.

“Hey Sherlock,” Mary’s voice snaps Sherlock to attention, “would you be a doll and hold Gladstone?” 

Sherlock is confused until she shoves a leash into his hands, and suddenly there is a bloodhound at his feet. Something else was nagging at Sherlock’s brain until he really looks at Mary and notices her stomach is no longer protruding. She was supposed to be in a high security prison. They had found her link to Moriarty’s organization, how could she be here? 

Her stomach wasn’t the only thing that was different. Her hair was longer and curled, and Sherlock couldn’t stop himself from deducing her. Dried vomit visible on her sweater through the open jacket, heavy bags under her eyes from unrestful sleep, and to Sherlock’s horror, a wedding band still in place. Sherlock’s gaze went back to her face in shock. 

John was next to her this time, taking less than a millisecond for Sherlock to see the baby wrapped in a pink winter onesie and strapped to his chest with one of those carriers. No this can’t be right. The baby isn’t real, she had fooled all of them. She’s in jail. John planned it. John came back to Baker Street. John came back to _him_.

Almost too afraid to, Sherlock looks at John’s left hand, gasping as he sees the old wedding ring. He tries and fails not to start hyperventilating. How could John do this to him? After everything, it didn’t make sense? Why did everyone always leave?

“Well don’t act so surprised, did you really think I would choose you over this?” John gestures to the dog and baby. 

Mary turns to head into what looks like an outdoor supermarket. “Come on boys, I need the ingredients before John decides he wants to cook after all. Dreadful, that.”

Too many thoughts. John is the best cook, how else would Sherlock eat? John. John left him and went back to Mary? John who is actually walking away. Sherlock’s speech comes out stuttered, “Wait! John please-"

“Are you coming or not?” John cuts him off. He looks unnatural, hair slicked back and no more warmth in his eyes. This isn’t his John, or at least not anymore. He can’t remember but he must have done something to finally make John leave. It makes sense, who would want to live with Sherlock let alone love him? He got sick of Sherlock’s mistakes and problems and eccentric lifestyle, to go have the picket fence life he apparently always wanted with Mary. 

Sherlock feels his heart rip apart, like when Mary shot him but worse. He collapses to his knees, and stares at John’s receding figure. He pleas for John to come back, but he keeps walking away. John please, please, come back-

\----------------

“Sherlock.”

John’s voice pulls him out of the dream into reality. When he becomes aware of his surroundings, Sherlock registers John’s hand on his bare shoulder and his face leaning over his body with a furrowed brow.

“Wake up, love. You were having a nightmare.”

Sherlock understands it was just a dream now. He focuses on John’s face. This is what’s real. John. John in their bed, pressed against his side and gently cradling his face. His breath blows Sherlock’s forehead curls as he leans closer for a kiss in that very spot. When he leans back again he remains only inches away and catches Sherlock’s eyes. 

He whispers, “You’re awake, you’re with me now. It’s over whatever it was.”

Sherlock breaks eye contact as he murmurs, “It was about _her_.”

John’s eyebrows furrow further in concern at the mention of Mary. The grip of his left hand on Sherlock’s arm tightens a bit.

“You chose her. The baby was real and you stayed and even had a dog. You all were shopping in a market and I was there,” Sherlock takes a shaky breath and continues while meeting John’s gaze. “I don’t know why I was there, I didn’t belong anymore.” 

John uses the hand on Sherlock’s arm to pull him into his chest while the one on Sherlock’s face moves to stroke through his curls, tucking his head into his neck. “Oh Sherlock.”

Sherlock moves in willingly, tangling their legs and pressing their naked chests together. His heart is still racing from the possibility of Mary still being out there. Of John being with her. And Sherlock being left behind again. He closes his eyes and presses a kiss to the side of John’s neck, sighing a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry, love. This right now is what’s real. We’re together and she’s long gone, locked up in one of Mycroft’s secret dungeons probably. We’re okay, you’re okay.”

Sherlock huffed and let the soothing words comfort him. Mary may be gone and the baby a fake, but her influence had left a stain at Baker Street. One which would be removed over time through replacement with new memories and the satisfaction that they won in the end. Sherlock hadn’t known about John’s plan with Mycroft, so it was a surprise when his plane touched down and the Moriarty thing ended up being a Mary thing. Sherlock and John could safely be together after that, beginning with a torturously overdue kiss the very first chance they were alone once the plane landed. 

Muffled by close contact, Sherlock says, “I love you.” 

John’s face breaks into a grin that Sherlock can feel on his head, “And I love you.” He leans back to see Sherlock’s face. They both cover the distance and share soft kisses. Their lips melding together and conveying the love they had just vocalized. It never gets old, Sherlock’s lips tingle and his breathing gets faster as the kisses increase in pressure. Sherlock parts his lips when John’s tongue swipes his bottom lip. They lose track of time kissing deeply like this, which is no bother to Sherlock who would gladly do this for every second of the rest of his life. As they both just needed reassurance tonight, the heated nature doesn’t last long. The pressure gentles again until John places when last chaste kiss on Sherlock’s cupid bow and forehead.

They snuggle in as close as possible with the comforter pulled up to their chins. Both fall asleep quickly, content and comforted by the warmth and closeness of the other. Every night would be like this.


End file.
